


Just Because You Were Distant Doesn't Mean You Never Cared

by PenguinKiwis



Series: In Where Plo's Sticker Habits Save More Than Morale [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Other, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:13:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29357787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinKiwis/pseuds/PenguinKiwis
Summary: Sometimes things go wrong. Sometimes a lone wolf needs a pack to fall back on. And It's up to them to pick up the slack and bring the lone wolf into the fold.
Relationships: Plo Koon & Voolvif Monn
Series: In Where Plo's Sticker Habits Save More Than Morale [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128161
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	Just Because You Were Distant Doesn't Mean You Never Cared

**Author's Note:**

> You can have some Angst as a Treat ™

There was a pounding in his ears that made it hard to hear. And there was a taste in his mouth that he didn't like. Bitter.

Sadness always tasted bitter to him.

Voolvif wasn't designed for this.

To be a general, that was. He could be a leader, he had the skills to, _lead_ to victory. But to be a General meant war, strategy, and _soldiers under him_.

Attachments. People. Sentiments. Those weren't things that Voolvif knew how to handle. Some would look to him and shake their heads, believing he took the Jedi Code too seriously. Others were just too scared to approach him when he was on Coruscant.

He was a solitary being, to begin with, but…

The taste of loss was bitter in his mouth. And the anger just made it worse.

Because it wasn't as if he had disregarded his men. After the Battle of Muunilist, he had done his best to get to know them, pick them out by scent and by force, memorize names, faces, individuals.

Some he knew better than others— the Commander who called himself 'Sunny' under him was kind and never faulted him for his more isolated and rough around the edges tendencies, and the Medic, Snipe, was the only one who could wrangle him into a chest compress to date, Master Rahhdool hadn't even managed that. And he knew ARC Trooper Fordo even though he wasn't part of the 146th.

But knowing his men… it still hadn't been enough. He should've been _better._

He was angry at himself.

An entire battalion of men— the entire 146th Battalion— gone, just like that.

Deep down he knew it wasn't _his_ fault, not like how Krell (the name burned a sour taste onto his tongue, dark and disgusting, it made his ears flatten and a snarl build in his throat) was certainly the one at fault for his staggering rises in troop casualties.

There had been circumstances that hadn't been expected. An ambush that had overwhelmed them and…

And then the 146th had been slaughtered. Some gunned down, some blown up, others fell to a crimson blade and it made him _so angry that Ventress didn't even look at him._ Her goal had been to cripple, he knew that the moment he saw her. But instead of fighting him, she went for his men. She sent the droids to him and picked off his men, cutting through armor that was painted with tan paint in swathes.

 _And he was a_ Master now _for Force's sake._ He should've been able to _do something_.

But in the end, he couldn't. And the 146th and he had been left to die in a ravine. Ventress was cruel, and if vengeance had not been the way of the Sith, then Voolvif might have left the Halls of Healing before he had been cleared to hunt her down.

He had watched them die. Unable to do anything. Watched Fang and Raider's bodies as they fell limp from snapped necks. Watched Jaxx and Mel bleed and bleed and bleed no matter how much pressure Snipe and he put on their wounds. Watched as Patches, Brick, Arrow, and Rox suffocated slowly from punctured lungs, or fluid, or their ribs being crushed. Watched and prayed to a god he had no idea existed or not to _save at least Sunny and Snipe because they deserved it._ He had reached out to the Force, clawing, grasping for _someone._

And yet, Voolvif's curse was that he was too resilient. Unable to die no matter how much was thrown at him. Snipe had died silently and Sunny with gasping breaths and he had thought he was going to as well, but taloned fingers ripped the claws of death from him, and he woke in the Halls of Healing.

That had been two weeks ago.

The Council, he had heard, was in a heavy debate about _what to do._ The _temple_ was in debate, the _GAR._ Very few lost entire battalions like that.

He wasn't like Master Plo Koon, who was renowned for his wisdom and piloting skills, known for being a _Pillar to the Order_. Hell, Master Koon has been around as long as Grandmaster Yoda, some Jedi would say. He was valuable and well-liked within the Order, not easily dismissed unless _he_ wanted to be.

And Voolvif wasn't like him. Voolvif was solitary, rarely spoke, and distanced himself from the rest of the Order. He liked being in the thick of combat or the thrill of a hunt because he was _good_ at fighting one on one and hunting targets down.

Unlike Master Koon, Voolvif knew he was seen as an enigma to some of the other Jedi, a Jedi without much of a presence in the Temple. Most didn't even realize he existed until they met him, he wasn't spoken about in classes, forgotten in favor of the Muunilist 10 (he didn't mind, they needed the recognition), so…

So he was likely to be turned out of the Order for losing so many innocents, so many men. Or at least, they wouldn't let him back onto the front.

That was… _fine._

It _was,_ despite the claws that dug into his chest at the thought of _not being able to do anything to help_. It was _fine._ He deserved it.

He could— could go and work with Master Agen Kolar, perhaps, in the Outer Rim. He could hunt and track down almost anything, and he wasn't good for training Initiates, too gruff and not good with kids, so he couldn't help there, but…

"You've become quite distressed, Master Monn," a deep voice brought him out of his thoughts and the canine Jedi jerked to attention, ears straight up as he turned. Then they flattened

"High Master Koon," he greeted, cautious. The Council must have just gotten out if the Kel Dor Master was in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Master Koon simply waved a hand. "None of that now, young one," he said, his tone gentle. "The Council has called for an hour recess and I have chosen to come to check up on you."

Voolvif is certain that the shock he tries to hide is easily felt by the older Master and he swallows.

"With… all due respect, sir," he started, slowly. "I don't see why you would."

A sudden sharp taste rolled off of the Master and he… he looked _sad._

"Master Monn," Master Koon started, gently reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You recently _lost_ your entire Battalion. Not even I recovered as fast as you seem to be doing."

Voolvif swallowed again, throat tight. "Shistavanens are solitary, Master," he told him, "We recover from loss quicker."

"Perhaps," the Kel Dor told him, and that sharp taste was still there. "But there is no shame in hurting, grieving."

"Attachments are forbidden," he said, almost on instinct and there was a soft sigh from the Master.

"Walk with me?" was all he said, asked, really, and he knew that if he said no, the other Master would back off— but Voolvif nodded and fell in step with Master Koon as he walked from the room.

There was silence between them and Voolvif couldn't help the nerves that were building in his gut. Aside from Kolar, none of the High Generals— High Masters— had ever sought him out, save Grandmaster Yoda, once or twice for missions, and High Master and Council Head Mace Windu for the attack on Geonosis.

Hell, the only reason Voolvif _was_ a Master was because of Geonosis. Because he _happened to survive the ordeal. Because he was_ _ **hard to kill.**_

_**If he had died there, the 146th might still be alive.** _

(x)

Plo Koon was old. Not as old as Grandmaster Yoda, or his Uncle, for that matter, but old.

And he was a Kel Dor.

He recognized distress when he saw it, when he _felt it._

So when Voolvif Monn woke on the sixth day of being brought back from the brink of death— two days after being rescued from the ravine— the distress, pain, and self-loathing had nearly knocked him over in the few moments that the Shistavanen Master allowed his emotions to run freely.

Kit had grabbed one arm when he had stumbled while they walked back to the Council's Chambers, and Mace snagged the back of his robe, the two of them hauling him to a balance. Shaak just turned around, brows furrowed, but three of the four of them could _feel_ it. And he bet that Mace could too.

It had _ached._ A pain so deep that a sliver of fear wormed its way into Plo's mind. A chance to fall, but…

But it _didn't have to be._

It was unfortunate, though, that it had taken him this long to approach the younger Master, but the Council had been in a _long_ debate ever since he had returned. Half with the Senate who just didn't seem to _understand_ that it wasn't Voolvif's fault and that he wasn't a piece of property to discard once _they_ (not the GAR and not the Order) deemed them too "broken" to fix— like they kept _trying to do to the Clones but like_ hell _he'd let them_.

The other half was debating _what_ to do with Voolvif after he recovered. The debate kept going in circles.

Solo missions were a favorite option among the Council and Ex-Council members brought into the debate— the loss of an entire Battalion under one of the most skilled Hunters among the Jedi Order's ranks had brought almost all the Council Masters from their stations back to Coruscant and the ex-council members were brought in for further insight.

There was a wariness in assigning Voolvif a new battalion— which, in Plo's opinion, was stupid because it wasn't as if he had killed them himself. There had been an ambush, and even though Voolvif was more distant than some Members of the Order were to their men, he was still a brilliant leader. He just showed how much he cared for his men in a different way.

And if that way meant hunting down the biggest local game he could find on the planet so they could eat _real_ food, then so be it.

But practically everyone on the Council could tell how twitchy Plo had been getting as the meeting and debates went onwards. There wasn't a battalion _ready_ for deployment, save the Coruscant Guard— which they really couldn't assign to Voolvif, they needed the Guard on Coruscant, and Voolvif's skills would be wasted if he were to _stay_ on Coruscant— and Shaak had reported that the next batch wasn't ready yet.

Eeth had been the one to suggest the meeting's recess.

Agen was already dozing off in his seat by then, Kit was twitching and picking up on everyone's weariness including Plo's own, and he was certain that if Obi-Wan's leg bouncing got any worse Saesee would reach over and smack him.

Plo had been out of his chair and making his way to the doors as soon as Mace approved of the break. Shaak had given him a look but he had ignored her in favor of simply clicking the answer to the unspoken question at a frequency she— and Kit, and probably a few others— could hear.

Voolvif.

And now he had pulled the Shistavanen Jedi from the Room of a Thousand Fountains, gently leading him through the temple.

Voolvif was an emotional explosion waiting to happen, no matter how emotionally resilient he claimed to be. He's a step away from a fall with no one to catch him and lead him back because he's been taught to not _feel_ and by the Spirits it made Plo's heart _ache._

He can feel the pain and sorrow rolling off of the other Master in waves, to the point where he's surprised none of the others in the Temple can.

And then he hears the footsteps that had been beside him stop and fall behind, and he turns.

Voolvif has stopped walking, gazing down at the floor with an unreadable expression but _oh,_ the pain that is rolling off of him.

Plo gently moved over to him, taking a hand between his own and uncurling the clenched fists. He does not flinch when Voolvif's unguarded thoughts are pushed through to him through the force— a torrent of pain and self-loathing and—

_**If I had died on Geonosis, the 146th might still be alive.** _

_Oh…_

Voolvif stiffens just a bit when Plo envelops him in a gentle embrace, one hand on his back, the other on the back of his skull.

"It is not your fault, Voolvif," he said firmly, but gently. "I promise you, it was not your fault."

(x)

Master Koon brought him to the Barracks, and even with his shoulders hunched, ears slightly flat, and eyes to the floor, few Clones that were in the large common area of the GAR barracks hardly gave them a second glance. Some waved to Master Koon, and a few were curious about Voolvif, but none of them— none of them stopped them.

None of them accused him of _murder_ because that's what had happened. He led the 146th into a massacre and—

And they continued on, Master Koon leading him somewhere within the GAR Barracks, and he recognized the gray paint. The 104th.

He slowed his steps but a gentle nudge from Master Koon moved him forwards again— and then there they were.

A battalion that had been rebuilt from nothing. Alive and lively soldiers all laughing and talking in the common area of the 104th's assigned sector. Some were outside the kitchens, others moving to other areas within the assigned sector, but they were _alive._

"Come," Master Koon said to him and gently lead him to a sitting area, where a number of Clones were relaxing. A few looked up, grinning and greeting them, but he didn't return them, the pounding in his ears was back and all he could see—

All he could see were Fang, and Raider, Jaxx, and Mel, and Patches, Birck, and Arrow, and Rox, and Snipe, and _Sunny._ But Master Koon was speaking, talking to the Clone with the Cybernetic eye, who glanced to him Master Koon made him sit down on one of the sofas and he did, still and silent.

Then a nod and Master Koon moved over to him.

"I must return to the Council," he murmured, a hand on his knee, the other gently smoothing fur atop his head down. "Will you be alright here? The Wolffepack has agreed to keep you company until I return."

He felt like he was a Padawan again and… and he nodded slowly.

Master Koon stood, giving him one last murmur of… something before he was gone. And then there were bodies, and vaguely he heard someone yell _'Vod pile!'_ before he grunted and a Clone had flopped across his lap, bleach white hair a mess before a one with his hair dyed red and shaved into two strips flopped on top of his brother.

And Voolvif felt the weight ease from his chest, just a bit— before increasing as another Clone, another one of the _vod_ , with slightly long and shaggy hair, flopped against his chest, stars and constellations tattoed on his arms and a grin on his face as he poked fun at the other two.

(x)

Mace Windu watched Plo Koon as he tilted his head back. He had returned to the Council Room with an air of determined resolution, and with a glance to Yoda, they both knew that he had solved the debate.

As soon as Yoda called the Council and Ex-Council members back into order Plo Koon cleared his throat to speak first.

"I do believe that we can easily solve the predicament we've talked ourselves into if we look at it from another angle," he said simply as eyes turned to him. "Assuming that Master Monn would be ready to be out on the field _alone_ or as the _sole_ Jedi among another Battalion of Clones was wrong of us. I propose that he work in tandem with another Master and their Battalion for a while, and perhaps take Solo missions when he wishes to as well."

There were some murmurs and a number of nods before Yoda hummed.

"A Master in mind, you already have," he stated and Mace sighed internally at the smug feeling that radiated off of the Kel Dor.

"The 104th, of course."

The Council exploded into equal parts laughter and groans, Mace just shook his head before another round of debate started— this one more hopeful than the last.

And when the verdict was finally reached, Shaak Ti would tag along with Plo Koon and Kit Fisto as they returned to the GAR Barracks, where they would find Boost, Sinker, Comet, and Wildfire sticking 104th Grey stickers all over a sleeping Voolvif Monn's armor with a 146th Tan sticker placed right over where his heart would be.

And the Masters of the Council knew they made the right choice. Sometimes a loner needed a pack to fall back onto when they stumbled. And that was alright.

Voolvif Monn would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> 14.6 million square miles is the moon's total surface area from what i remember. Voolvif is a wolf. Wolf and moon. You get the point. Also, like? where is the Voolvif love? He's cool. He's a giant dog man. obviously, this is where the AU starts to kick off because uhm yeah Voolvif is barely canon if he is. He is in my heart tho. IDK what Star Wars was thinking, though. Thinking that I wouldn't take the wolfman and let him hang with the wolffepack.


End file.
